


If Lies Could Heal

by donttellmyparentsplz



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson (Broadway Cast) Actor RPF
Genre: Aftermath, Awkward Conversations, Best Friends, Canon Rewrite, Crying, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not A Fix-It, Sobbing, Suicide, Suicide Notes, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23928673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donttellmyparentsplz/pseuds/donttellmyparentsplz
Summary: "It's nice to meet you, Evan." The words spoken by the father of his best friend burned the back of his mind. He felt guilty and wrong just being in their presence. He'd never met either of Connor's parents in person before, but he'd heard so much about the from their son and learned so much about them from pictures and trinkets littered around their home."It's not your fault. It was never your fault."
Relationships: Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	If Lies Could Heal

"Um... is Mr. Howard...?" Evan hesitated as all he got back were stares from familiar faces. "It's just on the loudspeaker..."

"Mr. Howard stepped out." Mr. Murphy said, "We wanted to speak with you alone. Why don't you sit down."

Evan avoided their stares as he sat at the edge of the chair in the office. The air conditioning turned on sending a whoosh of cool air and an irritating hum. Evan worried he was breathing too loudly.

"It's nice to meet you, Evan." The words spoken by the father of his best friend burned the back of his mind. He felt guilty and wrong just being in their presence. He'd never met either of Connor's parents in person before, but he'd heard so much about the from their son and learned so much about them from pictures and trinkets littered around their home. Cynthia liked to organize and had brought in professionals on multiple occasions to fix up a space, but was never satisfied with the result. Larry was hard-working to the point that he often forgot about family-life, visible in the lack of personal things in the home. 

"We've come to the understanding that you and Connor were close." Larry said. 

Evan didn't know whether he should be more concerned about the fact that they knew or that they knew and Connor wasn't here—wait...

"W-were?" Evan felt his breath catch in his lungs.

Larry looked to Cynthia and she turned her face into a tissue. A gush of breath left his lungs and he waited, hoping, praying that he'd misheard, that it had been mis-said, that it would be denied. 

"Connor, well, he took his own life."

Evan's jaw shut with an audible clack and he turned his gaze to stare at his knees. He'd struggled for years with Connor, trying to convince him that his life had purpose, but earlier that week.... They hadn't spoken since. But Connor wouldn't just—he wouldn't just leave Evan here by himself. They had to be lying. Connor had roped them into it or something. It was a pretty extreme prank, one he'd likely have nightmares about for a while, but anything to cover the possibility that they weren't lying and that Connor was really—

"No." He shook his head in denial as the first tear fell. 

"Evan, I know this is hard. We were here to see if you knew anything about why he did it and to..." Larry held out a paper. Just a paper. Torn from a notebook too quickly and crumpled and folded and... Evan reached for it. "We never knew how close you two were. That is, until we saw his note. It seems apparent that you were special to him. He wanted you to have it."

He breathed in a sob as he opened the note. _Dear Evan Hansen_. Clearly printed in messy, Connor-esque style at the top of the page.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't face them. Not after all he'd failed to do. Failed at protecting their son from himself. Failed at being the friend Connor had been to him. He swallowed back the sob that rose in his throat, demanding he be silent or risk letting it loose. The paper was heavy as lead beneath his fingertips. He opened his eyes to look at it once again, reading the sloppy ink markings from an obviously depressed, high as a kite Connor. The thoughts Connor had been struggling with for months—no, years on end had apparently caught up. And there at the bottom; _It's not your fault. It was never your fault._

The sob escaped and he clenched his fist to hold himself together. 

"Connor didn't write this." His voice was miserable. It trembled and lagged with grief.

"What do you mean, Evan? Of course Connor wrote this." Cynthia's motherly voice was choked by sobs and she had to take a deep breath to keep from losing it again.

Evan shook his head and once it started, he couldn't stop. It didn't matter what evidence was in front of him—the messy scrawl and familiar greeting—he couldn't believe it. He wouldn’t believe. 

"He didn’t write this. I... I did. I wrote it. I... I did." He pulled the paper to his face as he wept. It smelled like weed. Tears hit the paper and blurred the words and he frantically pulled it back again. Cynthia was standing beside him with a furrowed brow. 

"Evan, you didn't write Connor's suicide note—"

"I did!" He nearly screamed, sobbing once more as Cynthia placed a hand on his shoulder. "I might as well have!"

"Evan, it's not your fault," She was trying to be assuring, but it didn't ease the guilt that welled in him. "We don't blame you. We're just... just glad he had a friend."

She wrapped him in a hug and Evan sobbed into her shoulder, clutching tight at the back of her shirt. "I'm so sorry." He whispered as if those words could bring his best friend back. "I'm sorry."

Larry's hand came down on his back to rub soothingly and Evan trembled. He didn't deserve their support. 

"I'm sorry!" He yelled and heard it echo back to him through the small office. "I'm sorry."

" _You're always apologizing. Even if it's not your fault."_ Connor's words rang through his ears and new tears made tracks down drenched cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking in the comforting scents of lavender and mint. "I'm so sorry."

Larry sighed, "None of this is your fault, Evan."

_"It's not your fault. It was never your fault."_

But it felt like it was. 

"I'm sorry."


End file.
